


Flirting with this disaster became me

by A_Diamond



Series: Sacred Whore of Camp Chitaqua [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Job, Endverse, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Season 11 Compliant, References to Castiel/Other(s), Unrequited Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: Cas had fucked or been fucked by every man still alive in Camp Chitaqua, save two. Since Dean made it clear that he’d never be interested in anything Cas had to offer, physical, emotional, or intellectual—which clarity was really what gave Cas the kick-start he needed to take up his calling as Sacred Whore—he focused his efforts on the only other holdout.





	

**Author's Note:**

> SPN Kink Bingo square: CasChuck. Masterpost [here](http://alxdiamond.tumblr.com/kink).
> 
> Title comes from the song "Almost Blue." Though there are many lovely versions, in my heart it's always sung by [Gwen Stefani](https://youtu.be/UGJQzDIpkKA).

Cas had fucked or been fucked by every man still alive in Camp Chitaqua, save two. Since Dean made it clear that he’d never be interested in anything Cas had to offer, physical, emotional, or intellectual—which clarity was really what gave Cas the kick-start he needed to take up his calling as Sacred Whore—he focused his efforts on the only other holdout.

He waited in a cabin that wasn’t his, sitting on the ground and rolling joints in the dark until footsteps creaked up the stairs, one-two-three, and a lantern swung into the doorway before clattering to the ground as Chuck screamed.

“Shit!” he gasped, clutching at his chest. “Cas, man, you scared the fuck out of me.”

Cas grinned up at him, a laugh tickling his chest without escaping his throat. “You know, Chuck, I really hope that’s not true.”

Eyeing Cas warily, Chuck bent to retrieve his lantern. The plastic casing hadn’t cracked, and it was already so scratched up that it was impossible to tell if it had been damaged further. They still had a decent supply of batteries, so at least the cabin hadn’t been in danger of burning down. “What do you want?”

It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly, either. Chuck didn’t dislike Cas; he just had no idea what to think of him most of the time and that seemed to unnerve him. Out of everyone, Chuck came the closest to understanding what Cas had been, what he’d lost, and just how pathetic that made him now. They were a pair matched well, Cas thought. An angel without god and a prophet without revelation.

“What do I want?” Cas mused, and he could see from Chuck’s wince that the man regretted asking already. But he didn’t interrupt, let Cas roll his shoulders and stretch his neck as he considered. “That’s a very long list. It starts with eviscerating God with my bare hands, and really only gets more blasphemous from there. But if we’re talking realistic goals...”

He stood smoothly, bare feet padding across the floor to carry him into Chuck’s space. To his credit, Chuck didn’t flinch away; he’d gotten so much less twitchy since everything went to shit. So Cas was able to lean in so close that he could feel Chuck’s breath against his lips. “I was looking for some company tonight. Thought you might be too.”

“Cas...” Chuck’s expression slid from unease to disappointment and Cas ached at the sight of it. It was such a familiar look, but foreign all the same; even the face he’d grown used to seeing it on hadn’t looked at him that way in such a long time. He didn’t want Chuck’s pity, nor the dull throb that gripped his heart despite the various and sundry recreational pharmaceuticals that should have been numbing it, so he ignored both and dropped to a crouch.

Chuck was a good man, and a mostly heterosexual one, which were two of the reasons he’d never taken Cas up on his offers before. But he was also a lonely man, and life at the end of the world took a harsh toll from everyone. A little physical comfort really would help him, Cas genuinely believed that. It was his main purpose, these days, spreading that kind of comfort.

And if he was also doing it for selfish reasons, that was fine. It only hurt the two people it was supposed to hurt.

He tilted his head up to meet Chuck’s troubled grey-blue eyes and let himself be selfish. “Please,” he said quietly, “let me do this for you.”

Because Chuck was a good man who had an idea of just how vast a hole gaped inside Cas-the-human, even if he was off by a few orders of magnitude, he let the lantern drop and braced himself with his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to.

Settling his weight on the balls of his feet, Cas unzipped Chuck’s jeans and drew him out. No need to undress him more. He already felt vulnerable allowing Cas to do this, so Cas wasn’t going to push the issue. He wanted Chuck more comfortable, not less. So as he held Chuck’s dick away from his body—Chuck was soft, nervous, not especially attracted to a scruffy hippie of a fallen angel—and started to work it into an erection, Cas teased, “Still dead set on your briefs?”

It was a familiar topic of conversation and Chuck relaxed minutely for it. Most of the guys at Chitaqua, Cas included, had given up on underwear. They were less durable than jeans and shirts, so they happily bartered them away for more critical items like socks. Chuck was usually the only sucker to accept that offer.

“Can’t stand going commando.” Chuck’s voice was tight with forced casualness, but he started to fill a little in Cas’s hands. Stimulation was stimulation, and Cas was very good at his duties. “Chafes too much, I have a sensitive...”

He trailed off, discomfited. Cas had to chuckle a little. He leaned it to lick at the head of Chuck’s dick, teasing the tip of his tongue under the foreskin to help it ease back as he stroked gentle fingers up and down the shaft. Already most of the way to hardness, it twitched and firmed at the contact, so Cas stayed there, laving his tongue over and around the glans as it was exposed, pressing his lips to the flesh in wet, sucking kisses, and licking at the slit until it started to answer him with drops of salty fluid.

Pulling back to look up, he found Chuck flushed and open-mouthed, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Probably imagining someone else, which made two of them. Cas had intended to make a quip about Chuck’s sensitivity, but decided to let him have his fantasy and got back to work instead.

He slid his lips down, dropping his hands to envelop Chuck in his mouth. He didn’t take him all the way down his throat, not yet, but it was still enough to send Chuck’s hips bucking into him. That was fine; the apologetically gentle hand Chuck dropped onto his hair was not. Cas couldn’t take tenderness, it reminded him too strongly of a dead past.

His high was turning sour, the soft edges shattering into brittle feelings that Cas didn’t want to deal with, so he used Chuck’s dick to push them back down and away. Though he was too good, far too experienced to choke himself on it, he knew he’d feel for days the rasp in his throat from taking it so deep, so hard, so quickly.

It didn’t take much, after that. Swallowing and sucking, licking and sliding. Ignoring any distracting thoughts that tried to clutter his mind. Swallowing again.

Once he’d finished shuddering through it and taken a few deep breaths, Chuck looked down and stammered out, “That was, uh. Thanks. Do you want, you know...”

He couldn’t even say it, which was fine, since Cas wouldn’t have said yes even if he’d had anything hard enough to ‘you know’ with. “Nah,” he said easily, pushing himself up with knees that would’ve ached for months if he’d been sober at any point during that time. “I’m good.”

They both knew it for a lie on every level, but Chuck let him have it. He appreciated that about Chuck. Already headed for the door, he tossed, “See you around,” over his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure,” followed him uncertainly out.

As he left Chuck’s cabin, a prickle at the back of his neck made him look to the side. Dean stood at the corner of the building, half in shadow. But enough light spilled out from Chuck’s open door to highlight his crossed arms and vicious scowl. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed Cas departing from a liaison, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. It was almost like he tried to catch Cas out, but Cas doubted he considered it worth that much effort.

Still, he wiped imaginary semen from the corner of his lips with his thumb and sucked it into his mouth, just to sharpen Dean’s disgusted sneer. Their eyes locked and for a fleeting moment he was a being of power and light and devotion, a comet in a human body making his dramatic entrance into a barn covered in useless scrawl. Dean was his charge, his purpose, his Righteous Man to set the world to rights.

But the moment passed, because Dean could never stand to look at him for long anymore. “If you’re fucking done, we were supposed to meet Risa fifteen ago,” Dean growled, spinning on his heel.

“Yeah, I’m done fucking,” he said, because it got Dean to look at him again. It was a staggering glare, Dean’s undisguised hatred burning into him in a way Dean rarely let loose outside of torture sessions, but if that was all he could get, it would do.


End file.
